


flowers shall grow

by guilt_is_for_mortals



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (eventual) Mutual Pining, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Body Horror, Crying, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Practically the first year but with added angst, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/pseuds/guilt_is_for_mortals
Summary: From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.- Edvard MunchThe events of year one, but Cecil is secretly suffering form hanahaki disease.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137





	flowers shall grow

**Author's Note:**

> Urban Dictionary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flower, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers). One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if, the said person returns the feeling. The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If they choose nether options, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate. 
> 
> Disclaimer: There are quite few direct quotes from the podcast of what Cecil is saying about Carlos. I do definitely not own those quotes.

_**Lilac** _

  
“A new man came into town today. Who is he, what does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat?”  
  
It had been a day like any other for Cecil. Waking up, being greeted by the colorful lights in the still dark sky. Going to work and trying not to forget his first coffee. An intern hands him the most important news and topics of the day. Everything is planned, as planned as a day, or even an hour, can be in Night Vale.  
It had been a day like any other until he was shown the picture of the new man in town. It was a little bit blurry and there was some blood around the edges, but yet you could see the man just fine. The white lab coat... that wonderful, beautiful hair.  
  
“He says he is a scientist… well, we all have been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here?”   
  
Cecil keeps talking, as he always does. It is his job in the end, right? He keeps talking through that strange, slightly tickling feeling in his chest that makes him press a hand flat against it without him really noticing. He wouldn’t be getting sick, would he? He never got sick. Someone had to host his show and the only one to do it was himself. The feeling stops after a while and Cecil forgets about it, there are much more important things happening today.  
  
“That new scientist, we now know his name is Carlos. Called a town meeting. He has a square jaw and and teeth like a military cemetary. His hair is perfect. And we all hate, and despair and love that perfect hair in equal measure. Carlos told us that we are, by far, the most scientifically interesting community in the US. And he had come to study just what is going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was perfect. And I fell in love instantly.”  
  
Entering the town meeting had been a wild ride. He had expected a riot, had expected the government agents in the back or even the Sheriff's Secret Police to intervene. Had expected lots of questions, blood, maybe one or two dead. He had not expected to see Carlos, being even more beautiful than he had been on that one photograph. Hair looking so soft that Cecil wanted to run his fingers through it, just to know how it would feel. Teeth, white and shining, showing under his perfect, wonderful lips as he grinned… He had wanted to return the grin, to smile up at beautiful Carlos and make a good first impression, but the tickling, fluttering feeling in his lungs had returned and all he did was cough and cough and press his hand against his chest, trying to stifle the reflex and to breathe. How embarrassing.   
  
“I fear for Carlos. I fear for Night Vale. I fear for anyone caught between what they know, and what they don’t yet know that they don’t know.”  
  
Oh just how much he himself did not know yet. He had for example not known that apparently one of the houses in the new development did not actually exist. He had also not known that there should be earthquakes in Night Vale that nobody felt. He had not known that the sun had set at a wrong time. He was not sure if any of this was actually of real importance, or if it simply did seem important to him because it was Carlos who called him to tell him about it. It was Carlos and his perfect, caramel voice, telling him all this scientific things that made his chest flutter.   
  
It was very much not a day like every day now that Carlos showed up in person at the studio, a strange blinking box in hand to make tests. He looked as beautiful and perfect as before, but much more nervous and speaking only when necessary. Cecil hoped it had to to with him being considerate about not disturbing the show. Cecil hoped it had nothing to do with him, the way Carlos was brief and worried and left in a hurry, declining an interview or statement or coffee. It was shortly after the scientist was gone that the coughing returned, and Cecil could barely finish the show, before he got up from his chair to run to the bathroom, gasping for air, the tickling, fluttering feeling in his chest growing wild.  
  
Cecil stared at his reflection in disbelief, his reddened eyes and cheeks and his lips, slightly opened from trying to breath, with tiny, purple flower petals sticking to them. He had to cough yet again and watched some more of the lilac petals float out of his mouth, through the air and down into the sink. Flowers. Here, in the desert. Strange. Inside him. Even stranger. That was a new thing. Maybe Carlos could… he did not end that thought, as another fit of coughs made him almost throw up purple lilac petals right here in the bathroom.

  
_**Daisies and Daffodils** _

_**  
**_Warm, crimson blood mixed with the snow white daisy petals on the bathroom floor. Cecil broke down, face hot and feverish against the cold tiles, arms too weak to hold himself up anymore. His chest ached, not tickling anymore but burning, every cough hurting in his abused, sore throat.  
  
A few weeks have passed since Carlos had first appeared in Night Vale. A few weeks in which some days had been perfectly fine, a slight tickle here and then, maybe a few petals. Other days, the flowers were not so forgiving.  
  
-  
  
The first real fit had hit him when the reports came that someone had cut Carlos' beautiful, thick hair. Had shorn it short and left almost nothing of that soft, black, perfect hair. Cecil had not had a chance to run his hands trough and feel it yet. Damned be Tally the Barber. Of course, by now he had been punished by fate, being out there in the desert giving haircuts to cacti, but... that night, thinking of tragically shorn Carlos… smelling of lavender chewing gum, probably still looking perfect Carlos. It was the first night Cecil had thrown up from coughing lilac petals again, this time more, so much more. They were not letting him breathe or sleep properly. Cecil's coffee burned badly in his throat the next morning.   
  
-  
  
Cecil had sat outside and watched the moon, beautifully bright between the strange lights and the Glow Cloud in the sky. He had tried to call Carlos and ask him about the moon and its scientific specifications, but the scientist was not answering the phone. Was he avoiding Cecil? Or was he just asleep? How late was it? It must have been very late. He couldn’t remember now, it was all a bit of a blurr. There were daisies in his lungs that night. Soft white petals floating from his mouth like snow in the desert.   
  
-  
  
There had been a day Carlos stopped by to ask him about colorful flickers coming from Radon Canyon. He had looked so worried and so very beautiful as he always did. Cecil wanted nothing more than to take his hand to calm him down and let Carlos tell him everything about it that made him so worried. Maybe give a little statement live, so that the listeners could also be calm about it. He did not want to. He drove away, very quickly, after Cecil timidly lay a hand on his shoulder, as if the touch had burned his skin.   
  
It turned out to be some kind of Pink Floyd event, not the sinister forces Carlos had talked about, but the scientist ended the call very fast, sounding even more worried than before. Cecil had wanted to ask him about his plans for the weekend. Ask him to dinner, maybe? But no, oh no, he couldn’t. Carlos, perfect Carlos, showed no signs of interest in him. He would never ask and Cecil, tough not many thought of him that way, could be very shy regarding… matters of the heart.   
  
It was the first night that there was blood mixed with the petals, daisies and daffodils, and Cecil's tears falling to the floor. It hurt, it hurt so much, it felt as is his lungs were filled with sharp petals and he just could not breathe. Why could he not breathe every time he just as much as thought of Carlos? Was the universe punishing him? Whatever strange entities might be out there, were they so against his love for this beautiful man? Was someone, something, trying to hurt him for being in love?   
  
-  
  
He was sure he was being punished the day the massive earthquake that no one noticed happened. Carlos, lovely Carlos had come to the studio, had talked to Cecil about it, who was just barely able to not fall into a coughing fit right here and there. The feeling got worse when he asked if Carlos could explain what was going on and all the scientist got out were few seconds of stammering, a sigh and finally a slow headshake. He had looked so defeated and so beautiful and Cecil had wanted to hug and comfort him so so badly.   
  
He did not, of course, instead he asked about his shirt - it fit him so well and looked very nice on his body... Carlos answered something about computers. It seemed like he did not even listen to Cecil's question and then left. Cecil felt as if the daffodils grew thorns that night, piercing his lungs, stinging his throat. As he lay there, on the cold tiled floor of his bathroom, he wished for nothing more than his feelings to disappear. He wanted to grab the flowers in his chest and rip them out with all of the love he felt for stupid, beautiful Carlos. He did not, of course. He fall asleep, the taste of blood and flowers on his lips.

  
_**Purple Aster** _   
  


“Listeners, guess who called me this weekend! Well hey, I don’t like to talk to much about my personal life here, this is your community news station, not Cecil's personal life station, right? Okay, fine. I’ll just say it. CARLOS!!”  
  
It had been months. Sometimes Cecil thought it was over, when he lay awake at night, staring at his ceiling, realizing that it had been a few days without flowers, without the aching. Other days were worse than ever, everytime he as much as thought about Carlos it started again. Cecil had told no one. He was not sure why, it just seemed so very… personal. Because he now was sure that whatever this garden in him was doing, it was growing every time he saw Carlos, thought or spoke of him… still mostly daisies and often daffodils. It was getting worse and Cecil often was so tired, so very, very tired. But he still could hide it. Could hide the flower petals, could hide the coughing and the blood. It was much easier to keep his happy demeanor when he was live with the show, it was as if something was there keeping him going while he was at work and supposed to function. Until the day Carlos called him.   
  
“Carlos, the dark, delicate-skinned scientist who came into our little town and our littler hearts several months ago. Well, I gave him my home phone number quite a while back, and he never called. And I didn’t think anything of it, right? I mean, sometimes people just don’t call… and that’s okay.”  
  
It had been after a community meeting, one that did it’s utmost best to try and punish Cecil for his feelings, as Carlos was talking a lot, standing there in his beautiful coat with his wonderful hair and just being overall perfect. Old Woman Josie went as far as to hand him a cough drop and mentioned that the Erikas could help her make soup if Cecil was falling ill. He thanked her but declined. This was nothing soup could cure.   
As they were walking out out of city hall, Cecil approached Carlos with what he hoped was a perfectly friendly smile and pressed a piece of paper into his hand on which he had scribbled his number. “If… you ever have a… scientific emergency and I am not… at the station…” Carlos only gave him a slight smile. It was enough to get the coughing started and Cecil had to practically run away, throwing up flowers behind his car at the parking lot. It stinged terribly, thorns again… this was bad. There were other flowers now, not light yellow and white, but dark violet ones. Asters, he realized, though it was not easy to see through the blood. His throat burned like hell, his mouth tasted like iron. He had tried to get rid of the taste with smoking, but smoking only made the coughing worse for obvious reasons. By now he was almost used to the taste of blood.  
  
“Well, to the point… Carlos called! And I am like… Hello? Like, I don’t even have Caller ID and he is like: _I need to talk to you. This is important._ And I am like: Uhhh, okay? I mean, that’s pretty forward, right, listeners? But I can’t tell exactly what he wants yet, and he said: _Cecil._ Just the sound of his caramel voice…”  
  
Carlos’ call almost triggered a panic attack for Cecil. It had been late in the evening and he had already been lying in bed, as was his new night time ritual. Lying in his bed, a bucket next to him, throwing up flower petals and blood. What a catch he was, right? The sudden buzzing of his phone startled him, making his heart beat so terribly fast once he realized who was the one calling.  
  
Of course Carlos had wanted to talk for science reasons only. He needed Cecil to get the word out that time is not functioning in Night Vale or something. Cecil had a hard time following his statement. His lungs felt like they were being ripped apart by thorny vines, and he felt blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.   
  
“I feel like time always slows down when we are together, Carlos and I, is that what he is trying to say? I feel that way, too! But I did not say that. I just said… oh, this is bad… I just said… _Neat._ Ugh.” He let his head drop down to the wooden surface of his desk. “How embarrassing! I mean, Carlos is soo, soo smart! And he says so many smart things! And I am not dumb! I like science and municipally approved books just as much as the next guy, so I can’t believe that is all I could say to him! _Neat._ ”   
  
He had been so embarrassed. So many things he had wanted to say, so many feelings, but in the end, would it change anything? No, it would have made things even more awkward, right? He had gone back to bed while Carlos talked, lie on his back because it eased his cough a little. That was the moment he felt it. Not only in his chest, the thorny vines expanded, he could feel the tendrils crawling into his veins, his whole body aching, so much pain. He tried, he really tried his best. He even asked Carlos to meet him soon, but it was as hopeless as wishing for rain in this dessert. Of course he said no. As soon as he had thrown his phone onto the bed Cecil threw up whole asters into his bucket.   
  
“But, I did manage to ask if he wanted to get together sometime and talks some more about this really fascinating subject. He said no. But, he needed me to help get the word out and if anyone has noticed a massive time shift. Sooo, that is what I am doing now. Anything for the scientific community. I am very into science this days. Wow, can you believe he called me?”  
  
This must have been the worst day… ever. He had shown up at work feeling raw inside and looking as dead as he felt. He did not bring coffee anymore, it burned his throat so badly. But he made the best of it. Put on a happy face. Cuddled Khoshekh in the bathroom for half an hour while crying. Told all the listeners about his call and how excited he was. Cecil had become terribly good at lying. He just was not sure of how much longer he could keep up the act.   
  
When Carlos now called into the show and left voicemails, it was almost unbearable for him to listen. He could feel the vines in his veins shifting, realizing he could even see them in the veins in his wrists, where his skin was pale and showing them through, slightly piercing through his skin. Carlos wants to meet and talk about something important over coffee. Radio Cecil is very excited about this date and tells the listeners about it, full of hope and happiness. Real Cecil had given up on hope. Real Cecil was throwing up dark purple flowers into the paper bin as the weather began to play.

_**Pink Peonies and Red Roses** _   
  


One year.   
One year since Carlos had first set foot into Night Vale.   
One year since Cecil fell in love.   
One year since the first, tiny violet petals had shown up on his lips with a tickling in his chest.  
  
People had started to see that things were wrong now. The wines were showing through his skin, sometimes even growing through it. He had gone pale, even paler than he already was, losing so much blood, night for night must do this. Cecil could hardly breath. He dug himself into work, that made it easier. Something still wanted him to to his job and forced his body to move on, to breath, to keep talking, to keep living somehow. The intern knew. Dana knew. She had seen him vomit peony petals at the station, had brought him soothing tea instead of coffee, ice for his raw throat. Nobody knew it was because of Carlos, of course. Cecil kept this particular secret very much a secret.   
  
It was Night Vale after all. People noticed, but in the end... well the radio host was now growing into a living garden. Stranger things have happened. How about a slice of Big Rico’s? Today, anyways, there were bigger news than that. Today was Carlos’ anniversary and Cecil had it all planned. A ceremony, a trophy, little snacks. It would be wonderful, and maybe… maybe he could talk to Carlos in private for a minute or two. Maybe it would help. But maybe Carlos would simply just run away after seeing Cecil like this. He would be late anyways. That strange hole in the city, somewhere near the pin retrieval area of lane five. There had been chanting. There had been the typical Night Vale madness happening. Carlos went down to the entrance… The thought of the scientist standing there, being brave and heroic has Cecil coughing up petals again. Rose petals. Red, not just from the blood.   
  
Everything ached. All the time. As excited as Radio Cecil was about all that was happening, about Carlos returning from the entrance and gesturing the people to follow them. About finding the tiny city, with tiny people who were declaring warfare against Night Vale. As excited as his happy alter ego was… Cecil was not sure how much he cared. It all just hurt, all the time. Everything. It had stopped to just happen when he thought about or spoke to Carlos long ago. Or maybe the scientist was just always on his mind. Cecil loved him after all, after all the “No’s” and all the times that Carlos had not listened… he still loved him, so very much. Every time he saw that beautiful, perfect man, he fell in love even more. And it hurt. It just hurt so much.   
  
A note is slipped to him. A truly fearful thing had happened. He feels himself talking, reading the note of what has happened. He feels tears welling up in his eyes.  
“Here I am, stuck in my booth, useless.” He is not sure how much of this is Radio Cecil, and how much of it is him allowing his feelings to overcome him.   
“Only able to narrate and not to help…”   
The pain is unbearable and once again he can feel blood trickling out of his mouth, can feel the vines scratching his throat with rose thorns.  
“Curse this town, that saw Carlos die. Curse me. Curse it all.”  
Radio Cecil tries to take the upper hand again but fails. Grief and despair take over and he just sinks down onto his desk, blood and tears and misery.  
  
He lies there for some time, it might have been minutes, it might have been hours. Time does not work in Night Vale after all, so how would he know, right? He is not sure how and when he manages to look at the new note that is slipped to him. Not sure how long it takes him to understand the words written there, to understand that something unbelievable has happened. That Carlos is in fact alive. The most precious thing to him, the presence of Carlos in his life, not lost after all. All the words he would never have said, now he would. Cecil would tell him, and if it might be the last thing he does before the flowers overtake him. It could be for the best, after all. He would say what he had to say, he would tell Carlos how much he loved him. Carlos would not listen. He would say no, as he always did. And then Cecil would go out into the desert and lie down. Maybe there would grow a little garden from his chest. Maybe the pain would finally end.  
  
His phone buzzes in his hands just as he takes it to send Carlos a message to fulfill this newly formed plan.  
  
 _  
I want to see you. _ _  
_ _Meet me at the Arby’s parking lot._

 _Carlos_   
  
  
Cecil is not sure whatever scientific exploration Carlos would need his assistance with now, but he would dutifully go and meet him. The scientist only every texted Cecil when something was up. Probably something about the tiny city. Maybe another time thing.   
  
He arrives at the Arby’s parking lot, finding Carlos perched on the trunk of his car, dressed in flannel and jeans. Looking perfect. Cecil looks… less than perfect. His shirt is stained with blood, tiny, thorny vines crawling through his skin. Red Roses… he had thrown up red roses on the way over to the Arby’s, stained the new shirt he had managed to change into at the station before. He was a mess. He hurt.   
  
“What is it? What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?”  
Carlos just shook his head, beautiful eyes widening at the terrifying sight of Cecil.   
“Nothing,” he said. “After everything that happened, I just wanted to see you… Cecil, what happened to you?” His face and his voice are soft, so beautifully soft and full of concern and something else. Something more. Something warm.  
  
Cecil's heart began to beat hard. It started to pound against his chest, that was still aching, but he could feel… he could feel the thorns retreating from his veins. Vines pulling back into his chest, stopped from spreading. The scratching in his throat starts to slowly vanish.  
“Oh”. Cecil's voice is more tremble than word. For the first time in almost a year, he does not hurt. Carlos looked at the setting sun.  
“I used to think it was setting at the wrong time, but then I realised that time doesn’t work in Night Vale and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange… or malevolent and then you find that underneath it was something else all together. Something pure and innocent.”  
  
Cecil sits down besides Carlos on the trunk of his car, looking out over Night Vale, over the lights up in the sky above the Arby’s, shimmering so beautiful in the night sky.   
“I know what you mean,” Cecil replied. And he really knows.  
Carlos, hesitantly, put a hand on Cecil’s knee and for the first time in almost a year he feels warm and there is no pain.   
He leans his head on the Scientists shoulder.   
For the first time in almost a year, he could breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping and I do not have a beta reader.  
> I feel like I messed up the times quite a bit. I am sorry about that.
> 
> I hope you still enjoyed!


End file.
